Instead of Hard-Hitting Current Events Commentary, I Bring the Hate Against a Minor Celebrity

Five thumps on the head, I've got five thumps on the head to deliver.

The first one goes to Michael Chiarello, for not being able to get through one single cooking show without reminding his audience that he is a VINTNER in the NAPA DAMN VALLEY. Imagine if I began every friggin' blog post with, "As a medical transcriptionist, I am often privy to . . . ." or "My background in medical transcriptionist enables me to . . . ." You would puke, right?

The second one goes to Michael Chiarello, for his persistent, egregious abuse of the English language. I'll give you an example from today: While pouring olive oil over slices of artisan (BUT OF COURSE) bread for crostini, Chiarello was heard to utter more-or-less the following:

Do you see how literal* I'm being with this? Now you could just splash it around very loosely, that can be a fun way to cook sometimes, but see how much of the bread remains undressed if I do that? I want to get very literal coverage so that each piece soaks up the maximum amount of flavor.

I would note how much evidence this provides for Chiarello LITERALLY being a walking asshole, but why fight fire with fire? Why stoop to his level? He is not literally a walking asshole. He is only remarkably similar to what I imagine a walking asshole would look, talk, and act like, if assholes could talk, and as long as we're imagining one walking around on legs, I see no reason to let their natural muteness interfere with the metaphor here.

The third one goes to Michael Chiarello, for observing that "radicchio has a lot of iron, ladies." Fuck you, Chiarello. Are you my hematologist? My nutritionist? No, you're a VINTNER. In the NAPA VALLEY. I know this because YOU TELL ME SO ALL THE TIME.

The fourth ones goes to Michael Chiarello, for taking the most gorgeous filets of beef I have ever seen and stuffing them full of pesto. ABOMINATION. Really good meat gets salt-pepper-garlic powder-onion powder and then it goes on the grill for just a very short time, THE END. I am a purist about these things.

Finally, the fifth thump on the head goes to, yes, Michael Chiarello, for observing that one can use anything handy to flatten the butterflied filets--"I use the heel of my hand, but you could use a wine bottle or a meat mallet or your husband's hand." What could I use to beat this doughy vintner to a pulp, I wonder? I am thinking MY THUMB.

This man makes me miss Bobby Flay, people. I'm not kidding.


*I know what you're thinking: "Ilyka, you've gone half-deaf; you just misheard him say 'liberal.'" I swear to you that this is not so. He stone cold mixed them up and he didn't even seem to be aware of it. That is what made the whole thing so galling.